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Tuesday, December 29, 2009

And we’re back…. Whoo. Thought the Christmas break would never end. Days sleeping in, having fun with friends. Thank God that’s over. Well, next Monday anyway, I went into the office yesterday. Yeah, tumbleweeds started blowing across the lobby. Today I work from home, typing in the nude. Love it.

We took the tree down in record time this year, about twenty minutes after we came home from Christmas. Mostly because we needed the floor space, also because I get really depressed when seeing a tree sans its pressies, speaking of which here’s Steve countdown list:Let’s countdown Steve’s top five best but, incredibly nerdy Christmas presents….5) Two words: Carpenter Jeans4) A red T-shirt with the word COMMUNIST printed across the chest.3) Season eight of DALLAS the TV series2) A Police Call Box print T-shirt And the number one pressie...1) Transformers underwear, with MEGATRON printed across the ass.

And before you start asking for a photo essay of Steve rump inscribed with Megatron, I’m not that kind of girl….Okay so I am. Yes! Stop asking I put them up later…

I hope y’all had a great time of it. What’s the plan for New Years anyway? Are you hosting one of your famous parties? Can I come to your house and eat all of your shrimp cocktail?

Monday, December 21, 2009

Last Friday I did something I only do once a year. Not leaving the house. Not for breakfast, not for the gym. Amazing. Instead, the Sweet Baboo and I laid upon the super-squishy elle shaped sofa of love and watched every Christmas movie on the DVR. An entire day of Christmas movie mayhem, Well that and old Doctor Who. Poor Fuzzy had to switch from Olive, The Other Reindeer to The Genesis of the Daleks. Without a word of pain, that truly was a Christmas Miracle.

We were hosting our fantastic Christmas Soirée on Saturday and really needed to rest up, at least that’s what I told myself when I started thinking that Friday was trap and lat day at the gym. But, really when do you get a day to spend super quality time with your homosexual life partner. To hell with my dumbbell shrugs.

The big party last Saturday went great; it seems people had a lot of fun. But, cheap champagne will guarantee a good time. If you consume enough of it; man I love Asti Spumante. The only thing to make it better is to drink it out of a paper cup. Heaven. I took a lot of pictures, and then stared at my camera for two minutes wondering how the camera was going to get them on the web. When I turned to ask Dalton how photos appear on Facebook he suggested that the first step would be to put down my drink.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

My latest addiction on television has been the British show Haunted Homes. It’s a reality show centered on psychic Mia Dolan and how she helps normal everyday folks with really loud, ugly wallpaper come to terms with their haunted houses.

Every episode has a new family terrified of their own house due to a ghost that walks the halls and disturbs them as they sleep. I watch it because every episode has a new family living in complete denial of the hideous decorating skills. It makes me wonder, are their no wallpapers steamers in the UK? It’s like Lady Diana put up some jewel-tone boarder in 1995 and every house wife in a semi-detached followed suit.

Sorry, what were we talking about? Oh yeah, ghosts. Good show, I love Mia. When she’s all crying trancelike I just want to hug her. That and it’s hosted by a little gay boy in leather. It’s on the Fine Living channel in the US and ITV2 in the UK.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

I hollered this up the stairs last Friday night. I couldn’t find my phone all day on Friday and was just recovering from cold sweats and the shakes. Not being connected to the interwebs for the day had taken its toll on me. I had been constantly scratching my left wrist while rocking back and forth. All the time wondering why my baby hadn’t gained any weight. Now it was time to look around the house. Again.

“Yes, just call it.” I snapped, wondering if Lassie had it this hard.

I turned and went to dig through the dog’s food bag, the only place that I hadn’t looked. Dragging my hand to the bottom of the bag I suddenly turned to the face the dog. He had a look of either guilt from stealing my phone or of confusion from me molesting his food. Then, the theme song to the TV show Dallas started to waft through the air; quiet at first then growing louder. I turned to the Shar-pei and he said, “That’s your phone!” As I turned to run towards the sound of my beloved. Halfway up the stairs the only sound louder than my ring tone was Fuzzy declaring;

“Oooh, what’s this!”

As I entered the bedroom the only person more crestfallen would have been Anna Karenina as she spied her lover being sent off to the front by a younger woman. There in Fuzzy’s left hand was my phone in his right was a huge box of fine chocolate. The chocolate I had purchased and hidden in the back of my underwear drawer for his Christmas stocking.

Last Thursday I bought a great box of his favorite chocolates excited to see him discover them in this stocking on Christmas morn. I guess I was so caught up in the guilt of hiding things when I placed my phone on the box and shoved the whole thing under my underwear. I then spent the next ten minutes trying to explain that NO, I did not hide the chocolate and phone as a romantic game.

“Sugar butt. Thanks for assuming that I’m that clever. You know me; I’m just not that smart." True.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Ahh, mid December. It’s time to gather around and listen to Uncle Steve’s annual Christmas rant…..

WHAT THE FUCK DO PENGUINS HAVE TO DO WITH CHRISTMAS!?!?

Have you seen the inflatable, glowing Christmas crap that everyone displays on their front lawns? Big billowing snowmen, elves, and happy penguins.

SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK DO PENGUINS HAVE TO DO WITH CHRISTMAS!?

At night it’s quite a cute little scene. A winter wonderland all blown up and bopping around to the forced air whooshing up their butts. But, during the day it’s another story. Driving through any upscale neighborhood it's a reenactment of Jim Jones goes to Christmas town. Dead, flat elves and snow people scatter the lawns like a mass suicide cult hit the North Pole. A massacre of merriment. One half-inflated penguin dragging its self off the lawn coughing out “Don’t drink the Kristmas Kool-aide……..and I only live in Antarctica and parts of South America why am I even here?! Aaaaaaaaaghh!”

Thursday, December 10, 2009

When I leave for work the better half is still peacefully dreaming away. All warm and happy with the dog. This makes me really want to fuck with his head, sometimes. Mostly I tell him I love him and to have a great day, sometimes I go a little mental.

Today was one of those days. As I leaned over to kiss him I growled low into his ear, then deeply growled Gggggggrrrowllllged, awwwwrgh grooooooolg. I guess he was a little more awake then I thought because he said in a normal voice.

“What are you doing?”

"Uh…….saying I love you in Wookie….Growlll gagk.”

There was complete silence as I finished with my gym bag. Then I heard through the dark.

“Your Jedi powers are useless on me; I’m not telling you what you got for Christmas.”

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

I was in the middle of my monthly trip to The Container Store for holiday organizing. I do love things to put things in. OCD? No, I just love the canned veggies alphabetized in the pantry. There’s nothing wrong with that.

During my visit to the plastic box store, I had to “hit the head” or use the room of rest. When I was complete with my task, I washed my hands. My wet hands being held out in front of me I circled around for the paper towels. Realizing I looked like a zombie and being alone I started moaning:

“Towels…..must have towels….Arrrrgh! Arrrrrrrrh!”

As I staggered towards the paper towels to attack a nice, normal little queen unsuspectedly came into the bath room. With a look of confusion, bordering on terror on his face. I quickly dried my hands whist humming the song being played on the over-head. A mix of White Christmas being sung by a gay zombie. Just to make him think that I was singing that the entire time.

Then I ran.

If you hear rumors of gay zombies cruising the bathrooms at The Container Store, that was just me.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Monday, December 7, 2009

I’m sitting on the couch t’other day. I flip onto a TV channel that has Kelsey Grammar in Victorian clothing and a stovepipe hat dancing around. He’s also sporting a small crippled child on his shoulders. They appear to be having a grand time singing about how they love Christmas. Like a NAMBLA Christmas. They are soon joined by a of 19th century London dance troop. They proceed to jump about in a flurry of fake snow. All happy Scrooge like.

Meanwhile my other half is clicking away on the laptop on the couch next to me. He looks up..

“What’s this?”

Without missing a beat, I inform him it’s titanic.

“I forgot Kelsey Grammar was in that.”

And looks back to the Macbook. If you see Fuzzy can you causally work into conversation how you enjoyed Kelsey Grammar as Jack in Titanic? It would help me out. Thanks.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

What’s a Metroplex? Out of the blue a co-worker came to my clubhouse of a cubical and asked. Well…trying to remember my Texas past. A Metroplex is the name coined for Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas to describe the scope and vastness of the metropolitan area. It’s now used for other huge cites where other cites and suburbs have merged into one area.

The remainder of the day I sat homesick for Texas. Weird. I couldn’t wait to move away from the Lone Star State and here I was “homesick.” Maybe it started a couple of days ago when Dalton and I were at a restaurant and the table next to us was talking about their home town of Beaumont, Texas. Just up the road from Dalton’s Port Arthur home town. Maybe it has more to do with my recent addiction to season seven of Dallas the TV show. Probably.

No matter why, today I’d give anything to be standing on Cedar Springs or Montrose avenue. Just saying.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Let’s not discuss why it happened but last Friday, the biggest Christmas shopping day of the year I was at Super Target. At six AM. Buying frozen White Castle hamburgers. I was sporting sweat pants, pillow marks on my face and sweat shirt that may have been on backwards.

As I approached the check stands to wade through the hundreds of sleep deprived holiday shoppers I started to think twice at my need for frozen fast food themed burgers. But it was too late to turn and paddle upstream. I stood in line like Janeane Garofalo in Whoville. Quickly my turn came, I placed my box of frozen meat onto the belt right after Edie McClurg’s “grandbabie’s toys” and waited for the story about how Mrs. McClurg is finally going to see her babies to end with the cashier so I can pay for my little bit of heaven in plastic wrap.

It was my turn.

“Did you find all of you holiday special deals today?” She cheerfully questioned, not looking down.

“Yes. Yes I did.” Watching her face change as she noticed what she had to ring.

“Well….great. We all have to eat.” As I turned my head sideways like a dog trying to read The Catcher in the Rye.

She handed me my receipt like she was dealing with a subway bomber. A look of total contempt, trying to figure out why a healthy Christian would be there buying something other than presents for his wife and kids. I suddenly had an urge to scream out that I was a Jew. But, that would leave an image that non-gentiles have bad eating habits. I couldn’t live with that so, I just smiled and went to fight the traffic out of the parking lot.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Happy December! Can you frickin believe that it’s December first? 2009 kind of zipped by, now it’s almost 2010. Well, my ’09 resolution to eat more fried food was easy to keep. It’s always good to make a resolution that’s attainable. Be realistic, that’s what I say.

Last night Fuzz and I were digging for more holiday plastic crap in the garage. Somehow in a tub of Christmas, I pulled out a VHS tape of my road trip to Washington, DC for the 1993 March on Washington. Hell, it’s only been sixteen years. I of course would have not owned a VCR in five of those years, but Fuzz keeps one in the bed room. His best porn isn’t on DVD.

After watching this relic I realized that I’ve really grown into my nose. Man I was creepy skinny back then. Creepy skinny and LOVED denim sleeveless shirts and braided leather belts. Come on, it was, 93. My shoulder length hair was set off by my stone washed Levis and Act Up T-shirt. I wonder if in sixty years time my descendants will watch this and be amazed that their forefather was a complete man- slut. That and why he always wore those rainbow colored rings around his neck. Some sort of popular jewelry of the time, maybe?